


Kissed by Fire and Ice

by WalkingPotterGirl14



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: And a lot in later chapters I mean, But he also knows something, F/F, F/M, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, It's not all sunshine and daisys, Jon Snow knows nothing, Mentions of Jon Snow/Ygritte - Freeform, Mute Character (for a little bit), Smut, Tormund is a cinnamon roll, Who needs to be protected, jon snow needs a hug, some violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2019-02-23 03:35:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13181520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WalkingPotterGirl14/pseuds/WalkingPotterGirl14
Summary: Not long after being proclaimed "The King in the North," Jon Snow just wants to evade his duties for a bit and take a walk in the Godswood for some peace. On one particular day, he finds small footprints that lead right to his home. Who he finds and what happens after changes his life and everyone he know's forever.





	1. Chapter 1

Enjoy!

*CHAPTER ONE: Forbidden Footsteps*

It was strange. 

When Jon Snow had come back from the dead, feeling like it was all that time ago, he hadn’t thought he would be where he is now, walking through the Godswood, looking to find some peace from the never-ending parade of complaints from the people of Winterfell. 

When he had come back from the dead, he didn’t even want to be alive. He wanted to go back to the world of nothing, stay there. Keep it final. 

But he was back, and when he sat on that table, naked as the day he was born, he hadn’t known why. And even now, he still didn’t know why at all. There just seemed to be something that was special about him that some magical being in the sky thought was there. 

In reality, he didn’t think there really was. He had won back Winterfell for his family, for his sister, so they could have their home back. But it had never really been his home. He had a chambers, and always had a meal in front of him, but it never really felt like he was ever really welcomed there. 

Hadn’t that been why he went to join the Night’s Watch in the first place? Because he hadn’t felt that welcome within his own home? 

Gods, that seemed centuries away now. How he was so naïve and ready to become a man of ‘honor’ when he broke his own oath multiple times, and let himself slip into a love that he still missed. Something that he knew had been bad but so good at the same time. And it was always because of that love, because of that understanding for the Wildlings, that he had been stabbed to death in the first place. 

Now, he was King in the North, all because the rest of his men had proclaimed him so to be. And to be honest, he was grateful for the title, but knew he didn’t deserve it. He wasn’t a true Stark. He barely had his own claim to the throne here. If anything it was Sansa that deserved the title, not him. 

But the people spoke, and they had wanted him. And he knew from the moment they chanted ‘King in the North!’ that everything was going to go to shit. 

Alright, saying it had ‘gone to shit’ could have been a bit of an overstatement, but Jon knew he wasn’t the smartest of men. Brave, yes he did know that. Maybe stupidly brave. But he wasn’t smart in politics, or trying to make every single person happy. No, that was Sansa. That was something that didn’t run well with him and he knew it. 

And yet somehow, he was still king. 

When everyone came to him with problems, he would try to help them as much as he could, but every so often he felt as if he was completely helpless. Some people’s wants just keep interfering with the others and causing more of a mess than there was before. 

And that was when he decided to start slipping away, much like his father used to do. Slip away into the Godswood for some piece and quiet, just for a few minutes. Occasionally, Ghost would follow, although he tended to stay in the castle, resting by the fireplace and letting his fur grow warm in the winter. 

Jon didn’t mind the winter as much. He was more concerned with the winter that laid beyond the wall, the Night King. The man that could end any sort of kingdom that they did have. Any nation, anything like that. 

And he was the man who was leading them all to try and face that. 

And that, by the Gods, scared the hell out of his wits. 

Jon lets out a low breath and lets his head rest against one of the tree trunks, glancing at the ice crystals that hung from the branches above him. A few that were hitting the sunlight dripped small little droplets of water onto his pale and red nose, cold from the brisk air around him. Even in that moment, in the freezing weather that surrounded his body, he never felt warmer. 

Winterfell was where he belonged, but he needed to find a way to protect it and protect the people in it as well. Even if he didn’t necessarily have anything to fight for, his family did, and for that, he would do anything in his power to protect them and keep them safe while he was King. 

But after he rested for a few more minutes. 

Jon chuckles to himself, shaking his head. “Never thought you would see me here, huh?” he mumbles to nothing, thinking that Ned, his father, might just be standing there. But it was nothing but cold air. “Never thought I would be resting here, right in the same spot you would go to…I wish it was Robb too, father.”

He lets out a low sigh, letting his hands fall at his sides. How he did wish that they could just go back to the family, or what there was of one, back then. Back to when everyone was alive, together. Semi-happy. Even he had been semi-happy. 

Now…now he didn’t know what he felt. 

Before he could let his brooding nature take over him, his eyes suddenly move towards the ground. And he spots something he hadn’t seen in the Godswood in a long time. 

Footprints. Human footprints.  
As his eyes look deeper at them, he realizes they are much too small to be his own footprints. While he was not as tall as some of the other men, he did have larger feet than most, and whosever these had been were from a much smaller person. Maybe even a woman. 

No one ever really came out to the Godswood, and when they did it was usually to cause trouble. And most of the time, he didn’t see footsteps from them this far in. 

This felt…weird. Creepy, almost. 

Jon quietly lets his eyes follow the path of where the footsteps lead, and slowly, he ends up moving his feet one foot in front of the other, to follow them to where they went. And as he did, he found his worries about who they might belong to increase when he saw exactly where they led. 

Right into his home through the back. Right through a secret entrance into Winterfell. 

He curses himself. Whoever this had been had been doing this a lot to be able to have an actual entrance within the back of the stone walls. Little devil must have moved stone around to make a hole big enough for them. With the amount of strength he had, he moved the last few loose ones to let himself in without being seen, making a mental note to fix that entrance as soon as he finds who the culprit is.

Jon follows the footsteps deeper into the town, waving at people, but keeping his movements on the track beneath him, and then slowly, it goes through the doors of the castle. 

He swallows whatever sort of frog he had in his throat and quietly made his day down the hallway, now following the wetness from these supposed small footprints. By the Gods, whoever this had been must be stealthy and quick. They must have gone right past anyone. 

Finally, the footsteps stop. The wetness disappears. Jon glances away from the floor and towards what was in front of him: a door. And inside the door, he heard a clang of a dish against a surface. 

Biting his lip and moving as slowly as possible, he opens the door with little to no noise, closing it with the quietest of sounds. Once it’s closed, he turns around, not making any sudden movements to attract attention, and turns his eyes to the betrayer who had snuck into his home. 

What he saw…he had not been expecting. 

It was a woman. A younger one at that. Her hair looked to be in knots, and her clothes were practically falling off of her tiny frame. She looked as if she hadn’t had anything to eat in days, as he cheeks, from where he could see, were sunken in. But it wasn’t her frame or the way she snuck in food to her poorly made bag that made him pause. 

It was her hair. 

It was much like Ygritte’s, but a deeper, darker red. Almost mahogany. Although it was dirty and tangled, it was long, almost reading the end of her back, and covered most of her face. Her hands, covered in what looked like dried blood and dirt, grabbed at the rolls that sat on the counter, stuffing some into her mouth as if she was starving…

…she probably was. 

All bad intentions he had left him for a moment, watching as she stole food, but he couldn’t find the words in use to make himself present. She just looked so…beaten. So torn.

He knew that feeling. 

And suddenly, his feet move a single. Fucking. Inch. And the floor creaks. 

Her head snaps up, and her eyes connect to his. They were a dark blue, and from where he was, they seemed to have shades of something else. A different color. But before he could even try to speak, she screams and tries to run out the window. 

“Hey, y-“ He tries to yell at her but decides that maybe physical action might be the best. He jumps at her, grabbing her by her arms, but suddenly felt the hardest kick to the groin he had ever felt, and then a sharp elbow to his nose. 

It dazed him for a second but he still managed to hold onto her, this time with a tougher grip. She yells and screams, and he grabs one of his hands, placing it on her mouth, while the other keeps her secure to the wall now behind her. 

“Shut. Up.” The words were slick, like ice. They were cold and telling her that if she didn’t, something bad would happen. And then he looks into her eyes again, and he sees it. Fear. Overwhelming fear. 

She was terrified. Absolutely petrified. 

He felt his hard exterior soften for the moment, and then glances around them. Yelling could be heard from down the hall, and he knew that someone had heard their exchange. Thinking quickly, he keeps his hands on her and brings her over to the bookcase within the kitchen, moving it was his back. 

From his years of wandering the castles, he had picked up a few places where he knew there were secret chambers. And right now, this girl would go there. For the time being.

“For now,” he grunts as he lifts her behind the bookcase, closing and moving it just in time as the door swings open. 

All that was left in the kitchen were a few rolls and some dust in the air. 

~%~

She was more than petrified. She was frozen still. 

Jon knew from the moment he brought the girl to this chamber she would not be able to say anything. And for that, he was almost grateful. As soon as he had closed the door behind him in the room, she had stilled and ran to the opposite end of the room, and was huddled on the cot that was there. 

It was a tense silence between the two of them, neither saying anything. But while the young girl was staring at him in fear, he was looking at her in…intrigue. And almost worry. 

Seeing her still now, not scoffing down food, not running away…he saw a lot of bruises and cuts on her. One long one adorned her face, and the others were scattered along her body. There was even a gash on her side that looked like it had bled plenty, but he had a feeling she wasn’t the type to show the pain. 

As he looked back at her, he saw her huddle her arms and legs deeper into herself, as if trying to hide the fact that she was here. Jon, thinking that if he did this right, there wouldn’t be a fight, slowly takes off the cape that he been around him to keep him cold, leaving him in his regular garments. Ever so carefully, he takes a small step towards her. 

An immediate whimper emerges from her mouth. 

“Calm down,” he says to her calmly. “I’m not goin’ to hurt you.” She doesn’t look back up, just continues to whimper. “It’s alrigh’…I’m not gonna hurt you.” 

He takes a few more steps forward, and she slowly lifts her head so just her eyes were visible through her mop of hair. He sees the different shades now. They were purple. Almost a lavender. Blue with shades of lavender. What a strange combination. 

But she seemed to be a strange girl. 

He slowly kneels in front of her, but she backs up into the wall, as far as she could. And in that moment, he realizes why she’s so disinterested in even facing him. Whoever she was, this woman had been through some evil shit. Some diabolical shit. Someone had done something bad to her. Really bad. 

“I don’t know your name,” he says softly. “But I won’t hurt you. I swear to you.” She looks at him again, her eyes still enveloping fear, but almost now a curiosity. And slowly, she lowers her arms. Her lips are visible to him now, with her cheeks as sunken as they were, in full view. 

The sight of her letting down her guard for that small second almost made him smile a bit. 

“Do you know who I am? You broke into my home, girl.” She doesn’t speak, just glances away. “But I’m guessing it was for yourself?” After a moment, she nods. “For food? Or something else?” She shakes her head at the last sentence, confirming it was just because she was hungry. 

He nods, glancing over at her torn bag. He’d let her keep the food. He’d come up with an excuse for later for Sansa.

He turns back to her. “Can you speak?” Her eyes look back at him, and he knows instantly. No. That was a definite no. “Can you read?” The same look. No. “How can you understand me then?” She shrugs. She must have been around people to understand them but never comprehend it herself. 

Jon’s eyes glance towards the cuts on her skin, and he felt a sad pluck at his heart. 

“Someone’s hurt you, haven’t they?” She doesn’t speak, of course. But she doesn’t look at him either. Just glances at the ground. He looks at her quietly, before sighing. “Look at me.” Slowly, the young girl lifts her head up. “I don’t know who you are. I don’t know where you’ve come from. But I won’t let you go back out there into the world looking like this.”

Her brow furrows. And he knows what she’s thinking. Why?

“I’ve known people like you…and I know that it doesn’t normally end well. You fought against me, but you lost.” Her cheeks turn red. “You’re weak. You’re tired. You’re hungry. I’m not like some of the other men here who would jump on you…the moment they see you.” Even looking how you do he adds to himself. “If you stay quiet and secure, you can stay in this place until you are healed. It shouldn’t be long, but you can stay and recover your strength…from whatever has happened to you.” 

The girl looks at him hopefully, and he feels a bit of a happy edge in his chest, the same place as the pluck before. It felt nice to make someone happy, even if she was…someone different. 

“You alright with that?” She nods again, just as slow. “Alright…I’ll be back with something warmer than bread. Stay down here for now and warm up…we’ll see what we can do to get you better, ok girl?”

She nods, watching through her tangled locks as he stood. Jon approaches the door, but then hears a soft creak come from behind him. 

“…th..ank.” 

He looks over at her, seeing her dark cheeks as red as her hair. That was the best she could do and he knew it. But he couldn’t deny the little smile he felt tug at his lower cheek. 

“You’re welcome. Rest up.” He leaves after that, shutting the door behind him. 

Once he reaches the top of the staircase that leads to the room, and exits through the bookcase, he lets out a low sigh. 

If Jon didn’t know any better, he would assume that girl was a Wildling, and something bad has happened to her. He would ask Tormund about her tomorrow, see if he might know something about her situation, but for now, no one should know that she was physically in the castle. 

That was just going to cause more problems than he already needed. 

He didn’t know if he was crazy or just plain stupid, but he knew that girl needed help. And he would try to do it for her. And once she was healed, he would send her out. 

Those eyes told a sad, sad tale, though. And he wanted to know what it was.


	2. Fiery Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We learn more about the mystery girl and Jon and Tormund have a talk.

*CHAPTER TWO: Fiery Girl*

~%~

It had been about two weeks since he had taken the girl in.

Jon knew that not telling anyone about her appearance in the castle wasn't the smartest idea he ever had, but he had no other choice. Some people were old fashioned and would kick this girl out onto the streets the moment they saw her, extremely ill or not. Some would even go as far as to rape her.

And if he could do one thing, it would be to protect her from that. Because he had a strong feeling that had already happened to her.

She hadn't spoken a word to him since her barely stuttered 'thank.' Honestly, that one word was all he needed to know that she wasn't going to take extreme advantage of this place. She could have kept her mouth shut. But she didn't. She spoke willingly to him, even if she could barely speak at all.

Now, he had been sneaking food to her for the past couple of weeks, very early in the morning and very late at night, due to less people seeing. Usually it would be leftovers that no one would notice were gone, but it was enough for the girl downstairs.

He still had absolutely no clue who she was, or where she had come from. He still didn't even know her name, or if she even had one. He would assume she did. She looked like she was his age, maybe a year or two younger. Her eyes told stories of old women, but her body was something small yet young. Like he had assumed when he first saw her, she had been through a lot.

Early one morning, he heads down to the kitchen before his everyday duties. Taking food to her actually almost because something relaxing to him, something content that he could do before the hectic days started, and something to wind down with before the days ended. And usually, the girl would be awake and waiting, as if she just sat there the whole day, watching the door, begging for it to open.

Well, she could do other things. The chamber, although hidden, was a full one. There was a bathing area and everything, even a bookcase, although she couldn't read at all. She was still very timid, but he could see that with each visit with food, she would let her guard down ever so slowly. Now, whenever he came into the room, she would let her feet hang off the bed, looking up at him with that silent, doe-like expression.

Jon still wondered how no one knew about this chambers. It wasn't like it was this grand treasure hidden below the depths of his home, but it was impressive that none of his siblings-especially Arya-had never found this. Maybe she did. He wouldn't know now because she wasn't there.

But here he was, still the only one knowing about it. And as he walked towards the kitchen, silently searching for what could be of good use to her, he thinks back to how the chambers could have been installed. He had an idea it was because of a possible war from years ago, maybe as a hideout that his father or one of his ancestors could have come up with.

It looks like his years of wandering alone in the castle could have paid off for a reason.

"What's there here…" he mumbles to himself, searching around the kitchen. The girl didn't eat much, so Jon never tried hard to give her some grand meal. Even with the small meals he did find, she didn't eat all of it, but that never stopped her grimy fingers from attaching to the bread as soon as it appeared in front of her eyes.

That was another thing he noticed. She didn't clean herself. He knew eventually she had to clean herself and do something about the cuts and the hair and what happened to her. She was still very cautious about everything around her, he knew that, but he also knew that he needed to somehow convince her to help herself.

She was just so…torn. Her look of fear had been the same one he had seen in Ygritte's eyes when she passed away…all that time ago. That look of not knowing what was going to happen. And he was trying to make that fear go away from this girl, also trying to save his own emotions at the same time.

He still felt like he failed her…even if thinking about that now of all times wasn't the smartest. But he wasn't a smart man, yet again.

Jon sighs and looks at the food, biting his lip. The first thing his hand reaches for is a roll, blowing off the dust from the top that accumulated over bread naturally. He looks around and then grabs some cheese slices, placing that on top of another slice of bread.

His hands start a small fire over a candle and he heats up the piece of bread while grabbing what looked like a small cake. It would do. She just needed food to eat, nothing huge. Once the cheese had sufficiently melted and the toast was now made, he grabs some of the spices there and sprinkles them on, not too much because he has no idea how she would react, and then grabs a glass of water for her.

Slowly, he places all the food items on a plate and heads towards the bookcase, pulling out the book to get down. As he walks down the stairs, he pulls open the door to her chambers, quietly closing it behind him.

"Here we are, go-" He turns around, only to see that the small body that was usually up at this point, was laying back on the bed, clearly still asleep. He walks over to her softly, placing the plate down on the side-table in a gentle matter. He glances down at her, seeing that there were…scratch marks. On her eyes now.

His brow furrows. Those weren't there earlier. Those were fresh. And they looked like they had come from her own fingers, considering there was dried blood on the nails. No animals had gotten in, he would have known, and there weren't any weapons in here. No one had found this.

She really…she had hurt herself. She must have…

"Her head," he mumbles to himself, realizing it. She had inner demons. He could tell from this injury. She had been scratching at her head to get them out. She didn't know how to deal with them. Bloody hell.

Jon sighs and then glances down at her. He sees that she had took the liberty of pulling it up now, so that way it was still tangled, but at least wasn't in her face anymore. From here, he could see the scratches and a few hidden cut marks, one that looked particularly close to what he could assume was a knife fight.

She had almost died. That was obvious.

He bites his lip. He wasn't going to wake her up. He didn't want to bring back her clawing fingers sooner than intended. He almost wished he could get rid of those nails while she slept, but he had a feeling that if he so much as touched her, she would scream the stones off of the chambers.

So, instead of being stupid again and touching her, he grabs the fur that lay at the bottom of the bed, and places it over her body so gently that he hoped she didn't wake up from the slight touch. And apparently, it worked, because her body laid as still as a newborn babe. Her eyes stayed closed, and her breathing stayed even.

She was at peace. For the time-being. And when she awoke, she would have food. For now, that was what he could do.

He leaves after that, gently closing the door behind him, leaving her to dream.

~%~

"What do you know about stray Wildlings?"

He had been pushing off talking to Tormund about this for a while. He didn't want to bring up an suspicions too early so he could give the girl time to heal. But now, it was two weeks later and he needed figure out if she was someone that Tormund might have known.

Without being weird.

Which Jon had a slight inkling that it wasn't going to go well.

Tormund, who was sharpening one of his weapons, glances over at Jon with a curious brow, and a confused expression. "Why ya ask, boy? Startin' ta have eyes at one of 'em?"

Jon rolls his eyes. "No." He didn't really think he'd ever be able to get over what has happened to the people he has cared about. Everyone he's ever loved, family-wise or romantically, has passed away because of him. And even now, he still felt horrible about it. But that wasn't what was on his mind now. He didn't want to think about that. "I'm asking for the fact that I feel like I've seen some stray Wildlings out in the forest when I go out."

Tormund tilts his head. "Go out? Ya don't hunt."

"When I walk around. I've seen footprints and stuff. Not a lot of people go to where I go." Tormund nods, placing his weapon down.

"Well, if yer curious 'bout something like that, I'd definitely say there have been some stray Wildlings in the past." Jon's brow furrows as Tormund glances at the ground. "Some have been in my lifetime, others haven't. Most haven't, actually." He chuckles and shakes his head. "Some of those stray Wildlings have been the reason why 'e aren't too fond of castle folk."

Jon looks at him confused. "Why?"

"Because some ran to find life in the country, tryin' to be someone when we all knew they would be nothin', just like out here. At least where they were befo', they were free. Somethin' that they weren't ever gonna be again. And most of those happened before I was even born."

Jon nods, glancing back at his sword that hung. He knew of the tales of Wildlings trying to cross the border. It didn't always end well. "What about this lifetime? Do you know of any?"

Tormnud bites his lip and shakes his head a moment later, his brow deep in thought. "Honestly? Not off the top of my head, no. Most people that I've seen while I can still remember have stayed with us because they loved it. There…there's maybe one I can recall happening, but it was years ago."

Jon leans forward. "Well don't hold out. Might be what I've seen."

"I doubt it," Tormund explains, before his face cringes. "Aye, that was a bad one, too. She's one of the few dark marks our tribe had. It was almost good she left."

It was like Tormund knew Jon needed this fucking info. The two walk towards the edge of the castle near the walkway. Jon had given Tormund a place to rest in whenever he needed it, and he had been using it before going hunting each day. As much of an ass he was to Jon in the beginning, when he had first come in contact with the Wildlings, Tormund was a good friend, a good supporter.

He was still an ass, but a good ass. If that made sense.

"What happened?" Jon asks him quietly.

Tormund sighs. "How old are ya now, boy?"

Jon shrugs. "Maybe twenty-two, can't remember my last name day. Been years." Tormund nods, placing his hands on the balcony.

"Helps, though. This happened maybe when you were a young teenager, fourteen. She…girl was thirteen, I think. Can't remember her name for the life of me, but she…she was a special girl. We found 'er when she was a baby, maybe no more than one, abandoned in the North by some trees. Wouldn't stop crying for three days straight. Gave everyone a damn scare."

Tormund chuckles, placing his hands in the pockets of his fur, sighing.

"I liked her. A lot. She had spunk for a young girl, something we didn't see often in women in our tribe at the time. Said that when she became older, she wanted to be a spearwife…that's right, she talked to Ygritte. A lot."

The name pained Jon's heart to hear, but if it was what would give him info on the girl, he would listen. "…really?"

"Yeah, the two were the same age, and because of their interests they talked a lot. Always wanted to be the women who were the fighters, or some shit like that…poor girl went through a lot when she turned of age. That's why she ran."

Jon's brow furrows. "What do you mean?"

"When her first moon came, she developed quickly. Very quickly." He looks over at Jon. "She was one of the few young women in our camp at the time, and men wanted her. Craved her because of who she was. And because of that, it made them hungry with lust. And she had no one, no parents, nothing…I should have protected her more."

Jon looks at him with confusion. "What do you mean?"

"I was the one who trained her at a young age. Gods, after all this year, I can barely remember her name." He shakes his head. "She…she was raped. Multiple times. At a very, very young age that a woman shouldn't be touched yet. And when she just turned older…she couldn't take it anymore. She ran. Far, far away. Us Wildlings haven't seen 'er since, and Mance took over the role as leader following that because of what some of the men did to 'er. She changed our group, even without 'er bein' there."

Shit. If that was really the girl he held in his chambers, he didn't want to know what else had happened these past years.

"Bloody hell," he mutters. "She really went through all that?"

Tormund nods. "Yeah…could never forget it." Jon glances back at him.

"Even though it's been years, do you remember what she looked like?" Tormund chuckles and nods.

"Ya…like Ygritte. But with much darker red hair, like it was from berries we would eat, or the floor beneath us." Fuck. "Her eyes were blue, though. With speck of somethin' else I could never get." Fuck. Fuck. "Fiery one. What was 'er name, shit…"

Jon glances back at the ground, feeling horror sweep over him. That was her. There was no other girl like that, it had to be. How she acted to him even taking one step towards her spelt it out in front of him, he just needed confirmation from Tormund that it was really her. She…she had gone through all of that.

"Fuck! Right." He turns back to Jon. "Adrya. That was 'er name. We all called 'er Rya 'cause we 'ated the sound of 'er full name…brings back memories." He looks over at Jon Snow. "Did you see someone like that? Wanderin' around?"

Jon sighs, shaking his head, playing it off. "No. Haven't. Person I saw was a male."

Tormund sighs. "I wonder wha' happened to 'er…cared 'bout her. Hope she's alright…wherever she ran to." He shakes his head and sighs. "Don't matter. I'll be heading out on a hunt soon, be back in a couple days. Think ya can 'old the fort, ol' man?" Jon snorts and shakes his head.

"Shut it." Tormund chuckles and leaves, patting Jon's shoulder as he does. Once he was off the balcony and heading out, Jon felt himself lean against the pillar behind him.

Adrya. Rya. That was her name. She had no family, and was a Wildling. And had been hurt. A lot. A whole fucking lot.

That was her. He knew who she was.

Now how the hell would he help her?

~%~

Hey! Thank you guys so much for the AMAZING response. Ya'll make me so happy.

Coming up: Jon and Adrya see each other again, and Sansa begins to suspect something with Jon.

Don't forget to favorite, follow and drop a comment to let me know what ya think! They always make me keep writing. I'm going to try and get another chapter asap but if I don't before the new year, Happy 2018!

Love ya!

~Ali

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo, what’s up? I’m rewatching GOT and just HAD to write this story. I’m guessing it won’t be SUPER long but I have a lot of ideas :)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! Don’t forget to drop a comment if you liked it (or not, I don’t judge) and let me know what ya think! Follows and favorites are like gumdrops and sugarplums! Amazing!
> 
> Next chap: Jon and Tormund discuss Wildlings and we find out more about the mysterious girl
> 
> Have an awesome day!
> 
> ~Ali


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